Judy, A Chris Colfer and Chord Overstreet One Shot
by imagleekyjonas
Summary: A star is dead. A community is undergoing problems against The Man. Things seem to be going wrong. In time of difficulty, can Chris and Chord make out okay? With support, compassion and...love?


**Judy**

A Chris Colfer / Chord Overstreet Story

Chord's POV

_June 26__th__, 1969_

_Some time after Garland's death…_

It really did come out of nowhere. The fall of a star who made it to the top, who had left her mark. Made her name. She was gone, and it affected millions. Especially the not-out-that-much gay community. She was our hero. Our savior, our queen of queens. The glamorous superstar didn't seem like the type to end her own life with drugs or resort to the idea of suicide, but really, does anyone really know a person? No one knew if she did it unintentionally or if it was under the influence of suicide.

Judy Garland. Dead at the age of forty-seven.

It seemed so unreal to me at the time, so impossible. Judy, to most people, was immortal. She never seemed to age, when in fact she did. She just gave that appearance. She was the goddess of film and musical theatre. What had brought about this strange end to her life?

One never really knows. No one knows. Only her latest husband, Mickey Dean, can explain her state of mind and being, and he's still isn't ready to talk. All we know is that she had died, June 22nd, of overdose in the bathroom of their Chelsea, London home. So many mourned the loss Miss Garland, especially the gay community.

It broke my heart, it upset me so much.

_June 23__rd__, 1969_

_The day after Garland's death…_

Her death never affect anyone more than it affected Chris. My best friend. The one true Garland fan. The one who spent most of his life looking up to her, and promising me that one day he'd get out of the crummy suburbs of Lima Heights, and stand side by side with her in an upcoming musical film.

When I heard the news from a group of colleagues, I had run home from the newspaper office I work at. After I got the news, I had to tell Chris. Our apartment that we shared wasn't far, but I ran as fast as my feet could take me. When I had gotten through the door and spotted him in the living room, it was too late.

Chris was stared blankly at the black and white TV screen, while sitting on the sofa with a purple quilt enveloped around his lap. His blue eyes summoned threatening tears, and his mouth was agape slightly. The man on the news channel just released some utterly shocking news about Miss Garland. Her husband had found her dead in the bathroom of their luxurious home in London. The rest of the story blanked on me, and my attention focused on Chris, who was still frozen on the sofa. I didn't know if he was still listening to the story, of he was just so stunned he didn't know how to react.

His idol was gone.

I made my way over to the television set, and turned the knob to shut it off. Chris continued to stare at it as I made my way to him and knelt down in front of him. Placing my hands on his thighs, I tried my best to comfort him.

"Chris…are you okay?" No response. Just that cold, sad stare, still on the lifeless TV. I reached up and wiped his falling tears away.

"I'm so sorry," I said, "I'm so very sorry, Chris." He finally turned his head to face me, though more tears had started descending down his cheeks, and he was shivering. My heart broke for him.

"C-Chord…?" he whimpered.

"Yeah, buddy. I know. I'm so sorry."

"Chord?" With that, he jumped into my arms and began to sob wildly. I couldn't hold my sadness back any longer, so I began to cry as well. I cried for his loss. Even though Chris had never met Miss Garland, he talked about her and worshiped her like she was his long lost mother. Her life meant something to him. He had every right to mourn for her death.

"Chord, no!" he cried into my chest. We both sank to the floor and sobbed together. I tried to pull it together as best as I could.

"It's okay," I cooed, holding him closer to me, "It's gonna be okay, baby."

"She's gone, Chord! She's gone!"

"I know baby, I know. It'll be alright, I promise." Chris continued to cry in my arms, and I let him. Who was I to tell him to stop crying? I was upset as well, but I knew he had every right to cry more than anyone else.

I had asked for the rest of the day off, I told my boss I had to be with my best friend. He understood, and told me his wife was at home crying her eyes out. He would leave the newspaper office early to be with her. With the time given, Chris reminisced in great memories of his idol by listening to all the vinyl records he collected. From _I Could Go On Singing_, to _Judy At Carnegie Hall_. All of the best records he scraped and saved for, he had been listening to them. I didn't mind. I loved listening to her voice, just like he did. And it got me calm as I made dinner for the both of us. He continued to play them as we sat down quietly and ate. I made his favourite, pear glazed chicken with mixed vegetables, still it did not cheer him up.

I would look his way while I ate, and watch him push his food around his plate depressingly. I felt so bad for him, I wish I could do something. But I had no idea what to do. The best I could do was reach over the table, and take his hand in mine. All I wanted to do was wipe his sorrowed tears away and make it all better. Chris looked at my hand holding his, then he locked eyes with me. I gave him a week smile as I ran my thumb over his.

"It's gonna be okay," was all I said. He didn't reply. Instead he pulled his hand out of mine as he got up and excused himself quietly out of the kitchen. I listened to him stop the needle on his record player. I heard him collect it and his other records and store himself away in his room. I knew he would be in there for the rest of the night, crying himself to sleep as he listen to his goddess of song.

After I cleaned up, I showered and got ready for bed myself. Though I had trouble sleeping that night. I tossed and turned in my bed endlessly. All I could think about was Judy, and Kurt, and all the things he's dreamed of. He so wanted to meet his idol and perform with her one day. I guess some dreams aren't meant to come true.

Then I found myself crying silently, not bothering to wipe the tears that ran down my face and onto my pillow. I was crying for her death, yes. But I was crying more for Chris. I felt his loss.

What a great loss it was.

_June 29__th__, 1969_

_Just after the Stonewall Riots…_

After hoping off the public bus, I decided to walk around the boundaries of the Greenwich Village and take a look. Seeing it from where I was standing, it still looked pretty bad. A riot happened the day before. Lots of cops fighting against us so-called minorities. A lot were hurt, a lot had died. I passed a few stores that had TV sets at their windows and I watched a few news reporters move their stories from Garland's death, to the riots.

Chris had gone out yesterday morning for a walk, but he was near Greenwich. It was a good thing I spotted him while I was getting breakfast for us, before something horrible could've happened to him. I took us home and we hid away as all the chaos happened.

I would peak through the curtains a few times, watching civilians running from coppers. They beat them senseless, shot at them harshly, and for what? Just because they were different? Just because the men liked men and the women liked women? It was completely horrific.

The gay liberation front was rising, and the government was doing all they can to annihilate the existence of our kind. It was a terrible feeling, that we couldn't have the same rights as other American citizens. We couldn't have the same opportunities or experiences. The idea of same sex marriage was out of the question. Polices raided the bars with, fully determined to get rid of us. We were pelted on, spat at. Called us faggots and fudge packers and pillow biters, and, according to religious creeds, the representatives of Sodom and Gomorrah. Apparently it was us who destroyed the meaning of family values, and it was us who sodomized and took the innocence of their children and teenaged sons.

I hate that feeling. The feeling of being labeled as an outcast simply because we happened to be different. Even I doubted this Milk fellow, an open homosexual who was running for public office, could change the views of these political and religious bigots who shit on gays on a day to day basis. I hated this time we lived in.

I didn't venture into Greenwich, which was loaded with cops, so I walked on through the small shops and strip malls. I was out on my day off so I could buy Chris a little something to make him feel better.

Walking into the music store, I saw that it wasn't as busy as it usually was. Cory, a tall figure with a baby face and brown hair who was the manager, quietly put records in alphabetical order. I moved over to the G section and happened upon some Judy records. Deep down, I knew I should've held off from this section for a while, but I decided I should get a few for Chris.

Picking out a few, I was proud of the selection I had, and moved over to the cash register, to which Cory seemed to have moved to from where he was before.

"Good afternoon," Cory mumbled, taking the records from my hand and cashing them in.

"Hello."

"You're pretty brave. Most of the customers who came in today, which was most likely a handful, stayed away from the Judy Garland records. It's like they were actually afraid of them."

"Wow. Well, these aren't for me. They're for a friend."

"He a Garland fan?" he asked, putting the records in a plastic bag.

"Huge. He was actually really devastated about her death."

"Poor guy," Cory handed me the bag, "Tell him everything's gonna be okay. She left her mark on history, and that's the greatest gift she had ever given us lousy humans."

"I'll tell him. Goodbye."

"Bye."

He was exactly where I left him when I left. Sitting on the couch, blanket wrapped around him and eyes glued to the TV set. When I left he was mindlessly watching sitcoms, but now he was watching the events that occurred during the riots. The reporter spoke of the government's plans to limit the rights of homosexuals, and that if any of the rules placed upon them was broken, severe punishment would be delivered.

The next thing that came up was a woman named Anita Bryant, who was supporting the decisions of the government and God her lord above. She explained that we homosexuals shouldn't be running around like deviant perverts when there are children out in public that we could possibly prey on. This got me angry. I marched over to the set and shut it off before turning to Chris, who curled himself into his body.

"Hey, Chris." No reply.

"I got you something," I continued, crouching before him and placing the bag on his lap. He gave me a look before opening it and pulling out its contents. He just stared at the pile of records placed on his lap. I knew it was a bad idea to get him those, he no doubt was thinking about her death at that very moment.

"I just…I wanted to cheer you up. These you don't have right?" Still no reply.

"This one, I know you don't have," I explained as I picked up the top one and showed it to him. It had a picture of Judy and Barbra Streisand hugging each other on the cover. The title of the single was _Happy Days Are Here Again/Get Happy_. Not only did Chris love Judy, he also had a thing for Barbra.

Chris stayed silent, just staring at the records I bought him. Instantly, I felt like such an idiot on the inside.

His luscious blue eyes locked with mine, and he leaned forward, placed his hands on my shoulders and gave me a small kiss at the corner of my mouth. A small hint of blush formed on my cheeks.

"Thanks, Chord," he whispered, "You're such a good friend." That's when I saw tears running down his cheeks. He picked up the records, got up from the couch and sped of to his room, locking himself in before I had the chance to catch him.

"Chris!" I called out, but he managed to slip away, "I'm…I'm so sorry." I had to give him time, he was still mourning.

That night I ate dinner by myself in the living room while watching some TV. I had left a tray of food outside of Chris's room and knocked to let him know it was there, he didn't answer of course but it was up to him if he wanted to eat it. Warming myself with the blanket, I cut into ham I prepared and watched some more of the news. They were still talking about the riots in Greenwich, and how gays and lesbians were marching for their civil rights, but also got bombarded by the police. Anita Bryant was on again and she was doing all of that preacher shit that I hated listening to. I had gotten a beating with the bible from my old man when I was a kid, and I didn't need it from some bitch who thought she knew all the answers.

I changed it to another news channel, they were covering the funeral services of Judy Garland. I let it stay and watched it for a while. A lot of people where there to give their condolences and pay their respects. There were some big stars present, like Liza Minnelli, her daughter. Garland's latest husband, Mickey Dean, was there too. He looked so sad, and at such a loss. I felt for him, I really did. I wanted to get up and call Chris into the living room to watch it with me, but I knew it would just upset him more. Even though he wouldn't admit it, but I knew he was angry with me for getting him those records. I didn't blame him. He had every right to.

A couple of hours later, I was still watching TV, but I was getting tired. That's when Chris sauntered from down the hall, holding the tray and empty dishes in his hands. He put them in the sink in the kitchen, then made his way to me on the couch. He gave me a small smile, and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you for dinner. You're really sweet. Such a good friend."

"It's no problem. You getting tired?"

"Would you tuck me in?" He looked so young and innocent in that moment, I couldn't deny him what he wanted.

"Of course." In his bedroom, I laid him down on his bed, and pulled the covers to his chest. He hugged them close to his body, his eyes never left mine. I wanted to say something, I just didn't know what to say.

"The first time I heard her," Chris said to break the silence, "I was just three years old. When I heard her voice I magically became in love. But I was too young to know who she was, or to remember her name. My mother told me that whenever she put on her Judy Garland albums, I would smile instantly, or stop crying when her angelic voice filled the room. She calmed me, soothed me. When I was ten, I fully knew who she was. I started saving up for her upcoming released albums. My collection became bigger than the one my mother had. I always watched her on the news, or on television specials. My first record of hers was _The Wizard of Oz_, given to me by my mother on my eight birthday. I always stayed tune for _The Judy Garland Show_. She became my idol. She still is, even though she isn't alive anymore. At the age of eleven, I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to be Judy's prodigy, her apprentice. Be in big shows and hit the big time in the movies. I wanted to be Judy. All my life…I wanted to meet her, and sing with her." He looked at me with sorrowful eyes as his tears fell and hit the pillow beneath his head.

"Now I'll never get that chance."

"I'm so sorry baby," was all I said. He sat up and I collected him in my arms. He held me tight. Again, he cried against my body and I did nothing to stop him from expressing his emotions. Like I said, I had no right to. He just lost his one true hero, so he could cry as long as he wanted.

"It's gonna be okay," I said quietly, and kissed his head, "It's gonna be okay."

A few days have passed since Miss Garland's death, and the issue with the riots had calmed down. But, like everyone else, it was lingering on my mind and it made me very uneasy. Throughout the gay community, whistles had been given out as a signal in case an attack should happen, and one needed assistance. I kept mine under my shirt and close to my heart. With this new policy, things made me paranoid. But I was especially worried for Chris. He had one too, but I was afraid that maybe no one would come to his aid and he'd have to suffer and take the blows from the homophobic extremists that walked the streets.

Fortunately, attacks weren't happening. Even though the police were involved in the riots against the gays, it was still their obligation to help a citizen in need. Though always kept a close eye on my kind.

Justice wasn't worth fighting for at that time, the government always got their way.

After my shift at the newspaper office, I went to grocery store to get some ice cream, then I made my way home. When I got home, I was so happy to see Chris back from his own job at the community theatre. Though it saddened me quickly when I saw the state he was in.

After putting the ice cream away, I called out his name.

"Chris? Chris, I'm home! I got you some ice cream!" I wandered to his bedroom. Opening the door, I took in the sight. It broke my heart. Only a lamp by his bed lit up the room, dimly. Chris laid on the floor, on top of the rug. He looked aimlessly at the ceiling with his arm under his head. He held his record, _The Magic of Judy Garland_, close to his heart with his other arm. That same album was playing on his record player. He had an old newspaper article about Garland's death near him, on top of some other albums.

Even though I felt sad for Chris, I couldn't get over how…beautiful he was. He wore fashionable pastel dress shirt, unbuttoned by the collar and rolled up at the sleeves. He had tight fitting red pants held up by a brown leather belt. His pink pouty lips were slightly parted, and with his stunning blue eyes it was an amazing contrast to his gorgeous pale flesh. His brown hair was styled in such a luscious manner that any man he passed would always look twice.

He remained staring at the ceiling as he listened to his record, and it was obvious that he didn't notice I was at the door. I brushed some of my golden locks back behind my ear, and continued into the room.

I don't know how long I was in love with Chris, but I knew it for sure the moment I met him, and we instantly became friends. All those times he would talk about Judy and smile like an excited little boy, those were the times he warmed my heart. I was glad we became roommates, and always hoped we could be more in the future.

Maybe…we could move passed that.

I got on my hands and knees and crawled my way over to him, slowly making my way in between his legs. He finally noticed me when I was hovering over him, face to face. I set his record case aside, but let the record player continue on with its music. I had no idea of what Chris felt for me, I just hoped he felt the same way, but I didn't want to scare him so I never made a move. Until now. I looked into his eyes, trying to see what was in his soul, but all I could see was sadness. I gently pressed my body against his, he let out a gasp.

"Chord?" he asked, reaching up for my face. I leaned into his touch and kissed his palm. It felt warm. It felt good. It belonged.

"I'm here, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"I promise." With my out trouty mouth lips, I leaned down, slowly closing my eyes. He followed suit, closing his eyes and leaning up with slightly parted lips. Instantly, our mouths connected for a loving kiss. It felt so good to finally kiss him like this. All I wanted to do since the first time I met him was kiss him endlessly. Though I didn't want to be to forward and frighten him. So I just continued to kiss him slowly and gently, making sure he was there, with me in the room.

His arms wrapped themselves around my neck and he clung to me like I was his personal property. Oddly, I was okay with that. It felt like I really belonged to him…and he belonged to me.

"Make love to me," he said into the kiss, and I stilled for a moment. I know for a fact that Chris had never been with another guy. I've been with a couple. Even with me being with more experience, I suddenly became scared. Chris wasn't some random dude I'll have sex with, he was my best friend. Closer than a brother. An innocent virgin. He looked scared as well.

"Are you sure?" I asked when I pulled from the lip lock.

"I'm very sure. And…I don't want you to think that I'm just really sad and need your comfort. Or that it's just two best friends finally going at it. I…I love you, Chord. For a long time, I've been in love with you. I don't want to lose you. I already lost my hero, and I know I didn't personally know her, but I lost her and I can't afford to lose you. You do feel the same right?" He was at the verge of tears and my heart broke for him. So I answered honestly.

"I love you too." Tears flooded his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he smiled. Truly, genuinely smiled. After smiling back at him, I leaned down and kissed him some more. Yes, I finally felt like I belonged. I belonged with him, and he belonged with me.

I removed my shirt, and his hands explored my developed body. He gave me a loving smirk that told me he was impressed with my physique. When I tried to unbutton his shirt, he became hesitant.

"You're beautiful, Chris." He blushed to my comment.

"No, I'm not. I'm too pale, and too skinny."

"Chris, you are so fucking gorgeous." He opened his mouth to retaliate, but I hushed him with a passionate and intimate kiss. His resistance relaxed, and I was able to unbutton his shirt all the way down, before sliding my hand up his smooth abs, his chest, up to his neck. As I kissed him, now lovingly passionate and fully of tongue, my hips couldn't help but grind forward, and the growing eagerness that was in my jeans moved against his covered bottom, and he couldn't even suppress his moans. I knew he wanted more, needed more. So did I. I wanted to feel his beautiful skin against mine.

Soon, we were naked and moved the action to his bed. Chris sat back on his elbows with his legs on the edge and his feet on the floor. I was in between his sexy thighs, with head going up and down and my mouth full of his erect dick. Chris tilted his head back and moaned loudly, not even caring that the neighbours might hear. As I gave him his first amazing blow job, my hands moved up his belly to his pecs and I couldn't help but fondle them and play with his nipples.

"Chord…oh god, Chord…that feels so good," he whimpered, tangling his fingers in my hair and guiding my head in a gentle bob. I swirled my tongue around his shaft and cock tip, and lightly sucked around the slit. I smiled when he told me it felt good, and that's all I wanted for him. To feel good. Soon, I gave his cock a break, pushed him lightly on his back and curled him up so his feet was in the air and his ass was facing the ceiling. One of my favourite things to do when I knew Chris wasn't looking was stare directly at his ass. It was nice and big, and looked amazing in any pants or jeans he wore. He always wore tight fitting ones. I was so happy that I got to finally touch like the way I was. It was smooth, and rounded on each cheek like globes. I spread the cheeks open, and blew lightly on his untouched hole. He squirmed and whimpered.

"Please, Chord…"

"Please what, babe?"

"Don't tease me. I want more…please…" So I gave him more. I licked his hole, and if he wasn't securely on the bed, I think he might've fallen off. He shouted with pleasure as I sucked and bit and licked and kissed his virgin tightness. He screamed at the top of his lungs when I stuck a finger in there.

"Please, Chord! Don't torture me! I want it!"

"Want what, Chris? Tell me what you want."

"Fuck me!" And I did. I got some lube that I knew Chris hid under his pillow. Also I always kept a condom in my wallet, just in case he and I got this far, but when I was about to tear it open, he playfully took it from my hand and tossed it somewhere in the room.

"I want all of you. I wanna feel you come inside me," he said with a cheeky grin, and I couldn't help but giggle, "I want you to own me forever." I got him on his stomach, with his bubble butt sticking up high held in place by his spread knees. I got behind him and lubed up my erect cock and his willing hole. I've wanted and waited for this for a long time, and I was so happy. I was going to make this night a night he would remember.

Slowly, with gently ease, I pushed in, forcing the tip through, followed by the shaft. Chris shouted and buried his face in his pillows. Damn, he was so tight. I'd never fucked a guy who was as tight as Chris. It felt so damn good. I gripped his hips and pushed in the rest of my cock, burying it deep inside his sweet ass, and making him cry out those sexy noises from his mouth.

"OH GOD! Fuck, Chord! You're so big!"

"Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?"

"No, don't stop! It hurts a little, but I'll be okay. I promise."

"You feel so good, Chris." I leaned down and kissed his pale back. Once the tip of my dick pressed his prostate, he went crazy. I let him adjust to the full feeling before I began to pull out and push in with tight ease. I made sure to hit that special spot in him with every thrust.

"You okay baby boy?" I asked, petting his ass lightly.

"I'm okay. I just…I feel so fully…in my ass, and in my tummy. It feels amazing!"

"I've never felt this good with the others I've been with." Chris then got on his knees and pressed his back against my front, pushing his ass in so my cock was buried deep inside him. He reached around and put a hand at the back of my neck before he pulled me in for a loving kiss. I kissed his pouty lips back with my own, as my hands worked up his hips, up his sides, to his pecs. He gladly let me fondle them as I fucked him in the current position we were in.

"I wanna look at you," he whispered to me.

"Anything you want." I didn't know Chris would look so hot when he got on top of me and rode me like a horny cowboy on a horsehung cock. He placed his hands on my chest, and his big bottom bounced up and down, and I laid back and took in all the pleasure he was giving me. It felt so good that I had to tilt my head back in the pillows as I used my hands on his hips to bounce him. With the position we were in, I could go even deeper inside him and hit his happy button. I couldn't help but thrust up every time he bounced down.

"Fuck, yeah! That's it, right there! Fuck me!"

"Aw, Chris. You're so beautiful…so fucking hot!"

"Yeah? You really think so?"

"I know so, baby. I know so."

"Goddamn, fuck me, Chord!" I continued to bounce him like I was, and it was amazing with every thrust and bounce. I loved that he was on top of me, taking some of the control. Plus, he looked so damn gorgeous above me like that.

We tried a few other positions, like me fucking him on his side while holding his leg up. He rode me with his back to me so I could spread his ass open and watch my cock disappear inside him. At one point, I was sitting up, and he rode me on my lap, and we looked clear into each other's eyes. He pulled me in for another kiss and I accepted it as I fucked him. Heat began to collect in the room, I could tell because the bedroom windows were fogging up. His body, like mine, began to create droplets of sweat. He didn't seem to mind, since he was a total sweat-aholic. But I guess he would let it slide.

He leaned back with his hands on the bed and rode me harder, driving me deeper inside his tight wet heat and punching up against his prostate. He was practically screaming as we fucked. I stayed seated up and I watched him as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, loving the feeling of getting fucked in the ass. One hand moved up to squeeze at his pecs, the other moved down in between us, and took hold of his leaking cock. He gasped loudly as I began to jerk him off, causing him to ride me harder, and get me deeper inside him.

"Chord, you're gonna make me come!"

"Come for me, baby! I want you to come!"

"I can't hold it!"

"Do it, baby! Shoot your load! I'll come with you!"

"FUCK, I'M COMING!" I thought I was gonna black out because I'd never experience such an orgasm as I did with Chris. He blew his load, squirting a few high shots and covering my hand and his abdomen. I shouted while he screamed, and I was shooting my load deep inside his tight little ass, filling him up with my hot baby seed. He fell back on the bed, but I continued to fuck him and empty myself inside him while I emptied him with my hand. His screams began to die down to moans and whimpers. Soon enough, I had emptied the last of my come inside him, and he had finished his release. We both came back from our heated, passionate highs, and I toppled on top of him, my head landing on his chest.

The music had died down a long time ago, so we no longer heard Judy's voice. I picked my head up and looked at Chris. He had this goofy spent smile on his face with his eyes closed and I reached over and kissed his lips lightly.

"We're all sticky and messy," he whispered.

"I know. Let me take care of that." I gave him another kiss, before slowly pulling out of him. I rushed out and came back with a wet wash cloth and I cleaned him first before I got to work on myself. After that, I bent down to put in the _Happy Days Are Here Again/Get Happy_ single on the record player.

As Barbra and Judy filled the room with their elegant voice, I cuddled up next to Chris, holding him close and laying my head back on his chest. I listened to his pumping heart beat.

"Do you hear it, babe?" he asked.

"Do I hear what? The song?"

"My heart. It only beats for you." I blushed, and reached over to kiss his nose.

"I love you, Chris."

"I love you too, Chord." We laid together quietly. In my head, I thought about a lot of things. All that's happened in the past few days, we'd be able to get passed all that. Yes, we're both sad about Miss Garland's death, but we'd be able to get over it and pay tribute to her one way or another. Maybe Chris would be able to get into the big time with his acting, dancing and singing talent, and be the next Garland. He was right for the job. We'd get through this gay liberation stuff, and we'd have the rights we deserve, like walking hand in hand across the street without getting mugged or…get married? I would like that. Happy days would be coming to us, and there would be nothing we could do but get happy. That's what Judy and Barbra were talking about in their song. Chris and I would get our happy days:

_Forget your troubles _

_Happy days _

_And just get happy _

_Are here again _

_You better chase all your blues away _

_The skies above are clear again_

_Shout hallelujah _

_So let's sing a song _

_And just get happy of cheer again _

_Happy times, happy times _

_Happy nights, happy nights _

_Happy days are here again _

I looked over at Chris, who was cuddled close to me and resting his head on my shoulder, sleeping soundly. I brushed some of his hair out of his face and put it behind his ear. And I thought, yeah, I would marry Chris one day. I loved him, with all my heart, and he was all I needed to get me through the troubles and make me happy.

I picked up the case for the record and looked it over again. Barbra and Judy were smiling on the cover, holding each other lovingly as they sang the song together with true happiness. I was happy. I was happy to finally be with Chris.

"Thanks, Judy," I whispered. I didn't exactly know what I was thanking her for, maybe bringing Chris closer to me through her music and all of her inspirational impression on him. I knew that was enough.

He was truly enough for me.


End file.
